


The Final Summer

by momomasoch



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Biting, Boarding School, Bondage, Cannibalism, Collars, Double Anal Penetration, Double Oral Penetration, Feeding, Leashes, M/M, Necrophilia, Non-Consensual, Threesome - M/M/M, Underage Sex, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:00:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23047417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momomasoch/pseuds/momomasoch
Summary: They wait for the school of dead boys to feast upon themselves.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel, Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel/Sebastian Smythe, Kurt Hummel/Sebastian Smythe
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	The Final Summer

**Author's Note:**

> In a zombie apocalypse, still-human survivors Blaine and Sebastian take shelter in the abandoned Dalton Academy. Together, they keep zombie Kurt in captivity; initially for coping with his death, and then, resorting to using him sexually.

Kurt is still warm—although he is beginning to spoil, a bit: as it is summer, the boy is starting to take on the same heavy, fragrant odor of bad meat: marbled cuts of fat and muscle turning sticky and soft and earth-hued. The stink draws swarms of flies and crying cicadas from the garden, swatted away quickly enough, as Sebastian shuts the windows and Blaine hammers the nails further into the wood of the sill, the frames of doors, as they wait for the school of dead boys to feast upon themselves. 

* * *

Restrictions are important: a collar fastened around the throat, a rope leash tied to the furthest corner of the dormitory. To feed Kurt, they have a quantity of meat from their former classmates: the ones fortunate to not be turned, whole fingers or the knobs of noses or the fatty baubles of ears. He accepts these little meals, cherubic-plump cheeks smeared with congealed gore, but his favorite treat is the tongue.

Blaine cannot help but indulge a dark curiosity: how it would feel to kiss the corpse’s sweet face; for another mouth, reanimated but not truly living, to press against his. When alive, Kurt would blush and quiver and be coaxed into parting his lips for more—but for these postmortem kisses, Kurt tries to gnash and snap his teeth, taking Blaine’s flesh from the bone: lips and tongue and all; Sebastian has to pry the boy’s jaws open to prevent the fatal bite. Kurt’s mouth is flavored with marrow, as he decays from each of the orifices of his body.

Blaine and Sebastian cannot truly help each other, not when they are too similar: both independent, commanding, domineering, and reluctant to share. Taking turns ends in arguments, of the duration and the actions, of who gets the most time with Kurt. For the satisfaction of both of their desires, they try to love Kurt together. Mere kisses are substituted for more blatantly sexual acts. Kurt does not understand, and gnaws at the pair of cocks presented to his mouth. It takes training—collars yanked at, leashes shortened, cloth gags stuffed between rows of teeth—for him to only nibble and suckle at the erections, to take two until his cheeks bulge outwards, to swallow the twin doses of milky come, groaning in complaint, pale fluid frothing from his nostrils. He does not need to breathe, but he still possesses human reactions and reflexes: Kurt vomits the first time he manages to fellate them both at once. Boy-bits and half-digested contents of his stomach dribble from his mouth, in a foul puddle—his narrow jaw is beginning to become loose.

The strawberry pucker of Kurt’s entrance, spittle-lacquered, takes one finger with difficulty. He shudders: the thick, guttural sounds are almost speech, but genuine consciousness and feelings are absent. And because he is deceased, he could accept one-two-three fingers, without regard for discomfort; but it must hurt, because he struggles against the ropes, crying out in his language of hunger. Blaine and Sebastian are differing lovers: Blaine is stout and rather bulbous, Sebastian is somewhat thin and long, and Kurt—he never becomes hard: short and small, a little flaccid drooping of creamy flesh. Both of them settle against a respective thigh, and they push forward together. The sphincter muscles are atrophied to jelly, skin peeling from the framing of bones, but they manage to find pleasure: spilling salt and seed.

* * *

The day before the end of everything, students had started to eat their peers.

Kurt watched his schoolmates from beneath chocolate lashes, hands fiddling with the cardigan buttons. "I heard—I _heard_ —" He insisted, in hushed tones, "Benjamin and Martin went insane. They tried—to _bite_ —a teacher. The Warblers have to hold a meeting about this." Cheeks dampened with tears. “Blaine—Sebastian—” Affection in one name, reluctant helplessness in another. “We can live through this, can’t we?”

Blaine laid a charming hand upon a faltering wrist, assuring: “They've caught a disease. Of course we will. The other Warblers will be fine, too.”

Sebastian merely raised his groomed brows, a thin smile unfurling in horrible humor. “I won’t let them eat you. Not before I get to. —I could love you to death.”

* * *

Following the three of them shuddering through their orgasms, there is a regimen of care for the young corpse: wiping the crusted semen from his splitting lips and buttocks, adjusting the raw rope leash, feeding him stripes of meat.

"I think we should kill him." Sebastian offers, a sweat-ripe sophisticate. "He's just going to keep rotting."

"No." Blaine replies, simple and final, his dark curls wet, the bristling of hair growing upon his cheeks.

Kurt, dead but not quite, lavender but not yet stiffening from the natural process of rigor, moans once more from starvation.


End file.
